


12:00

by layeredwinchesters (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/layeredwinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 12:00 at night, but Dean loves the song that's playing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	12:00

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and rolled in his bed. The sheets were messy from hours of tossing and turning, and one of his pillows laid on the floor. The person in the apartment above him had been blasting music all night, and while it wasn’t terrible, most of it wasn’t Dean’s taste. That, and he had been up since 5 in the morning attending courses and writing papers. Despite the fact that is was only twelve, and it was a Friday, Dean wanted sleep. The man groaned and slid off of his bed, wincing when his feet touched the cold, wooden floor. He padded over to his closet, throwing on plain blue sweatpants and, in his haste, an open flannel.

Pink bunny slippers padded softly along the floor as Dean reached for the coffee machine. He fumbled with it for a second, but failed. He decided to abandon the task for the moment, and soon he was walking out of the door. He took the elevator up to the penthouse, ready to growl at the no doubt rowdy teen playing music. As he walked up to the steel door, he heard a loud curse and a few songs were skipped. He lifted a tense hand to the door and knocked on the door of the large apartment twice. It slowly opened, and he could tell that the song playing, a relatively good song by Twenty One Pilots, was coming to an end.

Dean’s eyes were clouded by sleep, and the whole world had a thin layer of murk over it. Even through the veil Dean could see the beautiful color of the young man’s eyes. This stranger was so beautiful, and a few years older than the music suggested he would be. Dean was only twenty-one, but this man looked a few years his senior, perhaps twenty-three or four. The stranger looked Dean up and down appreciatively, and then seemed to get worried. Dean understood why, they had never seen each other before, and neighbors didn't usually greet each other at 12:00 at night.

Dean was suddenly awake, and the colors of the man’s shirt pieced together to form a familiar band name, Arctic Monkeys. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t get anything out as the intro to his favorite song came on.

“I came up here to tell you to turn your music down, but I love this song..” Dean mumbled appreciatively. The man’s eyes widened.

“Shit man, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was keeping anyone up. I’m Castiel, and I like your eyebrow piercing.” The man, Castiel, spoke in a gravelly tone.

“Hi Cas, I’m Dean, I like your tattoos, and you are lucky you have a good taste in music or else I would have stormed up here and beat your ass ages ago.” Dean drawled, the nickname slipping off of his tired tongue easily. His smile grew slowly as the mysterious man invited him inside.

Half an hour later Dean had discovered that he and the man shared music tastes, favorite colors, and favorite animals (alternative and classic rock, dark blue, and white tigers). The only thing they differed greatly on was taste in coffee. Dean was sipping a black coffee, afraid of compromising his masculinity, or what little was left, he thought jokingly. Bunny slippers didn’t exactly make people quake in their boots. Castiel was as odd as his name would suggest, and was enjoying a frozen hazelnut drink with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle on top. Dean laughed at the girly choice and got a spray of whipped cream in his face as a result.

At one in the morning Castiel picked up a package of cigarettes and opened it. Dean’s face morphed into disgust quickly. He had always hated the foul-smelling death sticks, and despite his tough demeanor, he decided to always ‘Say No to Smoking!’ in first grade after he saw an old, wrinkled lady talking through a machine in her throat.

Castiel, seeing Dean’s expression, rushed to show him the inside of the packet. “It’s not cigarettes, it’s m&m’s.” the man explained. Dean sighed, and held out his hand.

“Well, are you going to give me any or not?” He implored impatiently, chuckling softly and eating all of the green ones first, his personal favorite colored m&m. 

The men moved to the balcony fairly quickly, deciding they liked each other’s company. They blew up an air mattress on the large,concrete space, throwing darkly colored pillows on the makeshift bed, as well as matching blankets. Dean finally caved and took a triple-chocolate hot chocolate after Cas teasingly promised not to tell anybody. They laid there and talked about life for hours, sharing their stories and favorite things and views on life. 

It was the quickest that Dean had ever opened up to anybody, and the first time he had ever completely opened up. Something about the slightly older man’s ocean blue eyes and crinkly smile and wrinkled band shirts was warm and inviting and all Dean needed to spill his guts.By the end of the deep conversation the men had brushed hands three times, and grasped slightly once. The moment was fleeting, and neither of them would admit it, but it felt warm and fuzzy and right. They gravitated towards the house once it started raining lightly, Cas jokingly trapping Dean outside.

After setting up the pillows and blankets again on Castiel’s plush, red velvet couch, a movie was played. It was a crappy shark movie, the kind that was so mind-numbingly stupid that it was good. They poked fun at it, cracking jokes about the obviously fake shark and the bad acting. The two men gradually inched towards each other, and got tangled together. Dean traced Castiel’s tattoos with wonder, and Cas snuggled his head into Dean’s neck. Dean and Castiel fell asleep that way, legs intertwined and smiles present on their faces. 

When Dean woke up to light streaming through the curtain’s of an entirely glass wall and the smell of eggs and bacon, he was momentarily stunned. He soon remembered where he was, and sleepily made his way to the modern kitchen. The two tired guys greeted each other and ate in silence. Dean thanked Cas for the breakfast, and Cas asked Dean for his number. After exchanging numbers, Cas walked Dean to the door and smiled. 

The girly-coffee taste of his mouth lingered against Dean’s mouth like a ghost as he eagerly awaited a night of being kept up by great music and terrible movies and an amazing man.

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and not the best but oh well! My tumblr is layeredwinchesters if you have any requests :)


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